


Against the Wind

by Killbog



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, an excuse to write about country music and cowboys, old values, the dichotomy of being a gentleman but also being a pervert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killbog/pseuds/Killbog
Summary: Kate took the guitar back to a table and sat, giving the familiar strings a languid strum. It was in perfect tune. God, it was good to have the familiar weight in her lap. It was like she had been missing a best friend. Suddenly, she was back on a stage in a tiny dive bar, in the bed of her pickup on a flannel blanket, in front of the children at the homeless shelter. All those beautiful memories sharing her music with others. She picked a tune that had all of her pain in it, every lost dream.
Relationships: Kate Denson/Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger
Comments: 18
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Kate tapped her foot to a tempo in her head, her hand patting the log she sat upon in time. Others sat around the campfire, some watching her with anticipation, a few were laid back with their eyes closed. A moment of bliss for them, she would sing with more fervor than she had ever before. Country classics flowed from her mouth, pitch perfect and melodious. She worked through what she could remember. Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, even some David Allan Coe. What made her happiest was others joining in, or suggesting songs. If she didn't know the lyrics it only took some encouragement for others to share their voices. 

Once Bill had crooned, albeit slightly under-breath, _Hellhound on my Trail_. Kate had a small smile as she sang along. Kate had always felt some kind of kinship with Robert Johnson and his traveling lifestyle, playing and singing for small intimate rooms. At least he had gotten something from his deal with the devil. And the Entity was a devil. 

Bill had come a bit out of his shell, never failing to be present when she sang. Kate was betting being here was harder for him than most. Ace had been the one to question his empty leg holster when they met, which seemed like so long ago. Bill explained how his world had gone to hell, humans becoming mindless killers. How someone from an alternate dimension could have joined them here was still a topic of discussion over the communal campfire. Sometimes they would quiz each other to see if their timelines were the same. Some had been through supernatural occurrences, but they hadn't found any such shocking discrepancies since. For a man like Bill, who never stopped fighting to loose all means of defending himself, Kate wondered how he managed. He made her stronger, though he didn't know. 

Once when sitting quietly with Quentin, he had thanked her for her optimism. Looking into his tired, ringed eyes she for a moment let herself imagine breaking down, letting him see that side of her she barely let herself acknowledge. The side full of so much heartache she wished she could die. Instead, she gave him a sunny smile and reached down to grasp his hand tightly in hers. 

"If we don't feed The Entity any sorrow, why would it keep us around?" She shared. 

Quentine gave her a small smile, then looked out to the dark woods. "I've never thought of that." He let his fingers thread with hers.

Kate laid her head against her friend, the warmth of the campfire acting as a blanket. A bright light in the shadow of this world. It was the one thing Kate couldn't let herself believe The Entity had created. No, something out there had to be on their side. And until she found out what, she'd never be beaten down.

When Kate awoke she was in an unfamiliar place. That wasn't too shocking, she had become accustom to it on occasion. From where she sat, she could see in the distance a spattering of creaky worn buildings dappling the dry landscape before her. A tumbleweed brushed into her legs where she laid in the dirt. Picking it up, she gave it a toss, watching the twiggy ball be pushed off by the breeze. It brought a bemused smile to her face. This was strange, wasn't it? It was almost like being back in the real world. She was cautious as she rose to explore. But as she turned to seek a generator she realized the boundaries were gone. Her brow furrowed as she imagined the possibilities of her circumstance. There was no way she was heading off into that desert without knowing where she was. If she did, she was as good as dead. As she took a hesitant step, a crow suddenly set off behind her and she jumped, her arms wrapping around herself protectively. This wasn't a trial, nor was she safe. Had she somehow been taken to a killer's realm? It was not unheard of, stumbling into a killer's realm if one were to wonder too far from the campfire. But Kate had never been one to test the limits. She was social, she found her strength in others. But, she hadn't pressed questions to the one's who wandered, like Jake and Nea. It seemed though, some force had brought her here regardless.

She walked cautiously, as if something was out there looking for her. The light was low, but warm, almost romantic, and the hot air smelt of the sun cooking rocks. Gallows hung to her right, a solitary noose swinging in the dusty breeze. That was foreboding, but Kate had different plans for herself. If she had to lop off the top of a cactus and drink from it to survive, she would. She'd seen in it the movies before. And if those had taught her anything, it got cold in the desert at night. She hoped there was somewhere inside to sleep. She used the back entrance of a large wooden building. A short corridor led to a large square bar, tables dappled beside it. The upright piano sitting against the wall looked like it had seen better days. Was it irony or bad luck she had always meant to learn but never did? After all, a piano didn't fit in the trunk of her pickup. Upstairs held even more surprises, lush albeit dusty bedding was piled onto crooked brass four-poster beds. An old bordello then. Drawers held well preserved clothing too, silly frilly things probably much too hot for the climate. Kate began back down the stairs when a loud resounding crack caused her to slightly stumble. She grabbed the railing for support. Someone else was here, and an uncomfortable feeling settled in her gut. Kate went to investigate in the direction of the blast. No survivor was capable of a sound like that. Even if it was a killer, wouldn't she wake up back at the campfire? Leaving through the front swinging doors, she looked down the long main street. Stagecoaches sat waiting to pickup finely dressed women and men. In the distance a water tower rose up from peggy stilts beside a metal windmill. The metallic blades moved slowly in the soft wind. When she rounded the corner of a small shack the loud crack echoed again, a projectile buzzing by, a foot from her head. Kate froze, a cold sweat breaking over her. In the direction of the fallen chain stood a dark figure. His posture was relaxed, head tilted back and to the side. He began working whatever contraption in his hand, and the chain dragged past her right foot. 

Once he had finished, he slung the weapon over his shoulder. Every movement of his, relaxed and slow. Raising a hand, he brushed the brim of his hat down and bowed his head. 

"Ma'am."


	2. Chapter 2

The cowboy had almost shot her square in the face. And if she knew anything about cowboys, he'd missed on purpose. A warning then. But Kate had been raised right, his manners drawing out her own. Even if he had almost shot her. 

"Sir." She nodded. Then they stood and sized each other up. Kate had never been one to squirm under a man's look over, but most had not been bloodthirsty cowboys. A very very tall cowboy. His outfit was dark, and he wore a long duster. A glint came from a metal brace attached to his left leg. Kate's eyes moved up to meet his. Oh. He didn't have human eyes, no he had eyes like some feral animal's being reflected in the dark. He looked battered and time-worn, a good fit for the dustbowl he inhabited. But this wasn't right, and she knew then that with one wrong move she could meet a messy end. The Entity had her right where it wanted her. Why? She couldn't begin to fathom. "You're one of the hunters." She broke the silence. Though she had never met him, she'd heard the others talk about the killer with the wicked chain gun and limp. 

He made a non-committal grunt. "And you're one of the rats for me to chase?" His voice was one of the deepest she had ever heard. Gravelly, with a definitive western twang.

Kate floundered. He saw survivors as sub-human. She could play it smart, not do anything to upset him. But what was there to lose? "We're not rats!" She exclaimed, feeling her face heat with passion. 

A dusty laugh escaped from his grizzled throat as he smiled dangerously. "Maybe." He sidled towards her and Kate rushed backwards, hitting her tailbone on the corner of the building behind her. He stopped encroaching and regarded her for another moment. A pale hand raised to run down the shaft of his gun. "Can't say I've had the pleasure of hunting you down before."

Kate clenched her teeth in frustration, how could he enjoy what he did? She looked up and met his eyes in defiance. "You couldn't if you tried, cowboy." She did little to hide her disgust with him.

His smirk collapsed and Kate itched to run. The old man, however, turned and walked towards one of the tiny houses. Behind it's back porch he knelt down. Kate only realized what he was doing as his arm began working a handle up and down. As he pumped fresh clean water into a bucket sitting below, he ticked his head for her to join him. Was this some sort of peace offering? Either way, Kate was cautious. The well seemed in good order as the cowboy worked it, not one rusty creak moaning forth. Noticing her disobedience, he much more blatantly motioned her over, two fingers gesturing towards himself. 

"Get on over." He growled. "I thought you might have some good manners about you."

Kate moved reluctantly to join him as he picked up a tin cup and handed it to her. 

"Why're you here?" He gruffly asked, her disobedience seeming to irk him. "Ain't y'all have your own place?" 

"I didn't choose to come here, it just happened." Kate dipped the small vessel into the bucket he had filled. She took a drink of the crisp cool water. She hadn't realized how thirsty she had become in this arid environment.

"You find your own way?" He questioned, his mouth a firm line. Kate noticed the stubble around his lips, short silvery hairs. 

"No." She looked away and furrowed her brow. "I woke up here, I never wander far from the campfire."

"Seems we have a bit of a mystery on our hands." He stood and Kate followed suit. "You set yourself up in that bordello already? I heard you snooping' round it."

Kate nodded, wondering if he slept there as well.

"Well then, you're just inviting me to it, ain't yah?" He smiled at his own joke. She hoped it was a joke.

Kate balled her fists beside her and his head tilted to the side. A moment of quiet, then he rushed forth, grabbing her delicate hand in his large rough one. His other arm wrapped around her, pulling her taut against him. The tin cup dropped from her hand, clanking to the ground. The cool water splashed against her legs as Kate fought and squirmed, pushing away from him. 

"Let me go!"

"Now now, broom-tail. Let an old man have his vices. Been a real long time since I've had a real woman all to myself. I might be liable to forget my manners." His breath came hot on her neck.

Kate couldn't suppress the shiver his words sent down her spine, and he smiled when she stopped fighting him. Being so close to him, she could smell what had to be gunpowder and leather on him, and something spicy that must have been his own. Her nose wrinkled.

"W-Whats your name?" She asked, her body frozen in anticipation at his next move. If he tried anything she would fight for her life.

"Caleb Quinn, yourself?" He raised an eyebrow down at her as his hand on her back brushed a hint of bare skin under her tank top. Kate pulled away roughly from him with a gasp. He let her go, hands going to rest on the butt of his gun at his side. 

"Don't do that!" Kate ordered.

"Been a while for you too? Or you just takin' a cotton to me?"

"I have no intention of sleeping with you Mr. Quinn." Kate responded angrily. She hadn't thought about _that_... well since she had been taken. 

Caleb let out a low whistle. "Shame." He turned away, walking in the direction of the bordello and Kate hesitated.

"My name is Kate Denson." 

He paused, then turned to speak. "Kate Denson..." He let her name slide slowly across his tongue, and something clenched in her gut. "Think I might have something for you to see."

He breezed into the bordello with confidence, his subtle limp not seeming to slow him down. Kate had kept her distance, curious as to what this man could have for her. He hadn't been the most gracious host, but he didn't seem interested in killing her. Though, that in it of itself was worrying. Figures, she finally meets a real cowboy and he's an evil old pervert. For a moment she felt a twinge of sympathy for the man being alone in this prison of a town. Maybe he had just forgotten was being human was like. 

As Caleb made his way round the bar he easily reached a top-shelf bottle. The liquid was a rich brown almost orange. Bourbon or whiskey, Kate couldn't tell.

"You spend all day getting drunk?" She asked him from where she stood in the middle of the room. What a miserable existence that would be.

He raised the bottle, put the cork to his sharp teeth, bit down and spat it to the floor. The cowboy took a long swig. 

Kate felt a twinge of jealousy, it had been a long time since she had enjoyed anything. But he hadn't offered, and Kate wasn't sure she would accept regardless. 

"What was it you wanted to show me?" She crossed her arms.

Caleb grinned around the lip of the bottle and turned to reach down behind the bar. What he raised up had Kate's heart stop in her chest.

Clutched in his had was an old acoustic guitar she would recognize anywhere. She felt her mouth go dry at the sight of it. The beautiful mother of pearl in-laid body, the ebony fret-board, the tuning wires frazzled and un-clipped. That was her's. 

Caleb looked from the intrument to her and raised an eyebrow. "K.D." he mused. "Well seems I was right."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in some of the music I mentioned in ch. 1 I have a short playlist of some of my country favorites here. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/30uIRYN8xI344sd8Qtba5E?si=znxYmEbVSuCnX4KFsFaigA

"There's one mystery solved." Caleb laid the guitar on the bar top and Kate rushed over to it. 

"How did it end up with you?" Kate questioned as her hand closed around the neck of the guitar. 

"Found it here." 

Kate took the guitar back to a table and sat, giving the familiar strings a languid strum. It was in perfect tune. God, it was good to have the familiar weight in her lap. It was like she had been missing a best friend. Suddenly, she was back on a stage in a tiny dive bar, in the bed of her pickup on a flannel blanket, in front of the children at the homeless shelter. All those beautiful memories sharing her music with others. She picked a tune that had all of her pain in it, every lost dream. 

_I'm here in the darkness, when will I wake?_

_So much pain shared with others, how much can I take?_

_Wheres the sense in this heartache, I can't tell you that._

_But please know we're all here together._

_As the mist clears beyond,_ _round one another._

 _We find ourselves searching,_ _for something with color_

_In the flames of the fire, we're sisters and brothers_

_Til' we wake up free, unafraid._

Kate didn't try to hide the tears from Caleb as they rolled down her face. As she felt her sorrow she played and played, paying no attention to anything as night fell even darker around her. Now that she had it again, she never wanted to put down the guitar. Her fingers traced over her mother-of-pearl initials on the front of the guitar's face. A gift from her Father when she was young. When the guitar was a monster to wrangle into her lap, and barre chords were nearly impossible for her small fingers to manage. This guitar had been her life line for all her adult life. With it back she felt a confidence she hadn't before. Though she coped with the sorry predicament better than some others, for the first time Kate felt that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. That her guitar had been a gift from whatever gave them the campfire.

When Kate finally looked up it was dark in the bordello. Her unpracticed fingers were sore from pressing the strings without calluses. At first she figured The Deathslinger had slunk off at some point, but upon narrowing her eyes she was able to make out his dark form leaning beside the piano to her side. He was as still as stone, his head tipped down and arms crossed. 

"Mr. Quinn?" Kate spoke, barely above a whisper. 

For a moment he didn't move, until he sharply raised his head, his wide glowing animal eyes meeting hers. 

She didn't know what made her run, but some instinct took over. He guitar clutched tightly in her hand, she let her feet carry her deeper and deeper into the dark barren desert. Her running gave way to jogging then walking as the foolishness of her actions set in. The town was a dot in the distance behind her, but she pushed herself forward. There was nothing back there for her. Soon, in the distance she saw a small shape on the horizon. Hope swelled in her chest as she walked, until that hope turned to suspicion and just as quickly to misery when she recognized the familiar gallows. Back where she started, except this time a familiar figure stood atop one of the trapdoors. A familiar figure with his gun raised towards her. Kate leapt behind a barrel upon recognition, a loud crack echoing through the air only moments after. Rocks kicked up from the impact of the gun's harpoon splattering against the wooden body of the guitar she used as a shield. 

Just like any trial, her instincts kicked in and she snuck around the barrel, bursting into a sprint out of his line of sight. With no time to question what had changed in Caleb Quinn, Kate looped around the shacks. The guitar was cumbersome, but she wasn't letting it out of her sight. The bordello was just ahead of her, and Kate crouched through the doorway, listening closely for his footsteps to follow her. When she was at the top of the stairs she finally heard his spurs much closer than she had expected, he angrily came through the back entrance and looked directly at Kate on the stairs. He raised his gun again, but Kate was no longer in the same space when he fired, the harpoon blasting through the side of the wooden walled building. Kate raced into a bedroom, slamming the door shut and throwing her guitar on the bed. Racing to a heavy dresser she pushed it against the door to keep The Deathslinger from getting in. The door handle jiggled and she heard angry cussing outside before the cocking of his gun. The metal harpoon rushed through a panel of the door, wooden splinters flying through the room. It wouldn't take him long to get inside. 

Kate figured she had two options, let him kill her and hope she woke up beside the campfire or reason with the man. 

"Mr. Quinn!" She called as he cocked his gun and blasted another panel of the wooden door away. Splinters cut against Kate's skin from where she stood to the side of the door.

"Stop!" Kate screamed even louder. 

There was a moment of calm before his voice answered hers. 

"Come out nice like, little lady. Then we'll see what to do with you." He crooned before letting out an evil chuckle. 

Kate risked a look through the holes in the door, two pin points of light staring back at her. 

A rough hand shot though the crack, wrapping around her neck tightly. His grip was iron as she felt her lungs struggle for breath, sweat breaking out over her skin. Both of her hands wrapped around his, nails digging deep into his flesh while she struggled. Kate felt her head begin to feel fuzzy, close to the darkness. With her last breath she was able to moan out one last imploration.

"Caleb." She then went quiet, losing consciousness in his grip. 

What Kate was unable to see was recognition wash over Caleb Quinn's face as he released her. She crumpled to the ground as he fell backwards into the banister, looking down at his offending hand. Grabbing hold of the door, he wretched it open with his bare hands. Easily pushing aside the bureau afterwards. He wasn't sure what to do looking down on the woman's body, an regret for his actions brewing inside of him, an unfamiliar feeling. An unthinkable feeling. 


End file.
